


Passage d’Enfer

by RF_liz



Series: Mycroft/Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RF_liz/pseuds/RF_liz
Summary: Sherlock wanted to confirm Mycroft’s existence in a way he had never had before, after he was forced to aim gun against him...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Series: Mycroft/Sherlock [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717531
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Passage d’Enfer

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother language, and this one is translated based on a Chinese version. Do forgive me if there were any grammar mistakes or wrong selection of words.  
> Hope you would enjoy it and plz left your comment!!!

_**“The roads we walk have demons beneath. And yours, has been waiting for a very long time.”** _

In exactly the same way, the tone was not even slightly differed. Holmes the younger never lacked a sense of drama. The bow that once stayed just in front of the elder’s brow in the childish dispute now fell casually on it, picked up, then stroked to the corner of the brow, cheekbones, mandible, lateral neck -precisely follow the anatomical artery and fell to the beginning of the common artery that was not wrapped by the neckline. The bow that gently dropped, passing a stream of slight beats, the frequency was not high, but it definitely exceeded the normal working state of Ice Man's "maybe owned somewhere" organ.

 _"There, there should have been mark left by violin as well."_ Sherlock's bow finally fell on his brother's tie knot—boring but delicate Windsor—and then slid against it to the left collarbone. It was not easy, the elder’s neck would definitely suffered from that, and Sherlock's habit of willing to give trouble to the other party was even more uncontrollable under the influence of the 7% solution. As he expected, Mycroft made a slight choking sob for the first time after the ever-lasting silence. Not enough—Sherlock thought, Mycroft yet intended to talk, he was still evaluating, and thought it was another childish dispute, _**"Unwise, Brother mine."**_

His facial nerves might not be under control, Sherlock thought, or he must not laugh badly enough; otherwise why Mycroft was still indifferent, and adding 7% solution was still not enough?

 ** _"What do you want from me?"_** After a barely sigh, Mycroft finally spoke. After dozens of years of dealing with his little brother, Mycroft knew that any negotiation skills for Sherlock, especially the version of addict, would not have much effect.

 _"You are the smart one,"_ Sherlock finally threw away the bow, and stumbled close to his brother's ear, curling and fluffy curly hair rubbing the red marks drawn by the bow and tie, _"You tell me."_

The British government’s brain, survived safe and sound from Prime Ministers’ changeable little mind and colleagues’ intimidation and lure on the troubles made by Eurus, now finally started to ache, _**"Did you make a list?"**_

 _"I'm not the only brother who spells trouble for you,"_ Sherlock chuckled, his eyes unable to focus on his brother’s auricle, which was below his sight distance, but the closely stuck skin can convey moods much more subtly. Mycroft was not as calm as he seemed to be. " _You gave up the violin, not because it is too boring for you, but because of **us**_." 

Mycroft remained silent for a while, _"You know that the violin won't take **me** much time, you are too dramatic, Sherlock."_ But it didn’t mean he was not touched by Sherlock’s words. Mycroft’s tense nerves finally relaxed, and there was a warmth in his heart. Although the form was a little strange, but it was Sherlock - he was expressing concern, and expecting "normal" would be foolish. His levator muscle even expressed its normal function. 

_"I'm not talking about **time management!"**_ Sherlock raised his head violently, and the pain from his head indicated that he had brought the same thing to his brother, which made the anger that he could not control even more burning. Got up, _ **"'Then you're very limited', how dare they! And you accept it!"**_

Mycroft’s expression was blank for a moment. The detective standing in front of his eyes engraved a posture that had not been seen for years. His curly hair shook like life, his gray-blue eyes glowed with anger, and his hands were thrown into the air -just like the little lion who was extremely protective when he saw the son of a neighbor teased his brother’s body shape. That warmth overshadowed the pain caused by the recklessness. Mr. Government smiled helplessly and sighed, _"They are Daddy and Mummy, Sherl. And you, you two, what do normal people say? You are a blessed burden. And I ’m sorry, I shouldn’t use that stupid analogy, despite what Eurus did—I shouldn’t use words like demon, and you, you are not demon at all. ”_

But the lion cub was no longer the child who could be comforted and calmed easily by the words of his brother. The young Holmes never learned to stop in the dispute with his brother over the years. It is the nature of the detective to find out the roots and ask for everything, right? Sherlock approached his elder brother once again, and the very meaning in his eyes were so obvious that he could discern it without **_observation_** , and only with ordinary _**seeing**_ , which took away the ease in Mycroft’s face. The increase in body temperature brought by adrenal hormones evaporated the fragrance on the side of the neck. The smell sandalwood was dull and clean, and it was cold and clean. Sherlock's hobby, which handled 247 types of soot, had also been involved in a more fashionable field. _" **Passage d'Enfer** , indeed very suitable. How very telling- for the scene at hand- I want **you** , brother mine. I **will** go to hell, and I'm **willing** to. "_

If there were anything in this world that could shake Mycroft • Ice Man• Holmes's rock-solid, certainty of the world, it must be another Holmes. Mycroft turned his wrist slightly to change the skin in contact with the handcuffs to relieve the previous square inch of pressure. Sherlock's room was much cleaner than the poisonous dump just outside the door, but it was also dim. The sunlight at sunset passed through the gap between the two curtains and cast a poor afterglow on the face of the younger brother who was less than three inches from him. The only iris similar to him reflected a dissimilar stubbornness. But after all, Sherlock had not really put the sexually suggestive words into action, but he would not leave him much leeway. He was probably just thinking about where to start through the brain that is occupied by the 7% solution. 

Mycroft quickly deduced in his heart every single detail of Sherlock's performance that he had seen through surveillance and the only time they had met in face since he explained to his parents since the Erurus incident. Sherlock didn’t have a single hint showing an interest in himself beyond the past, and also showed no signs that the virgin soul of his had ever changed after the only sex experienced recently. The reappearance of Eurus changed something in the end. Mycroft can now openly revealed the limits of his thinking in front of his younger brother, so he asked, _ **"When and why?"** _

The young detective said nothing. The finger of the violinist was long and stable, and there was no tremor even under the influence of the solution. It touched the elder brother's cheekbones and felt warmth. He looked into his brother’s eyes. That lead-gray assembled the sky just before dawn or at the end of the day, only a fraction of the stars remained. Panic never stayed there for more than a second, only the calmness and tolerance sustained -even in such a situation. At this calm, Sherlock used to feel unreasonably angry, uncontrollably desperate, and unable to approach; he had always been the one who cannot calm, he had always been the one who wanted to break this calm, he had always been the one who owned this calm. This calmness keeps him anchored in this world more than the basis of gravity or any kind of absolute existence, until not long ago he learned that he did not _monopolize_ it, it would even forever _extinct_ \- under the gun in _his own hand_. 

Death never alarmed him. Puzzles always excited him. Puzzles at the cost of deprivation of life were often of a level above average. To some extent, Anderson was right. In the equation in Sherlock's mind, death can indeed be linked to pleasure. **_"All life ends, all hearts are broken."_** Death is the only certainty of human destiny in this impermanent world, but before that it had never been associated with Mycroft in the complex neural connections of Sherlock's brain. From the first second when the gun was aimed at the heart of his brother, just like murals sealed for thousands of years by rammed earth and then encountered fatal oxygen free radicals, the foundation of the Sherlock’s world began to collapse irretrievably. 

He wanted to confirm his existence again. Sherlock lowered his head and kissed his brother's carotid artery, his right hand lifted his brother's handcuffed wrists against the red-printed skin, just to feel the sign of life. Resist the desire to pierce with the tip of the tooth and replace it with a lip and tongue worship, _**"What we are promised is eternal life ..."**_ *

Without omitting Sherlock's whisper between lips and teeth, Mycroft sighed a thousand times in his heart. The right hand that was not handcuffed closed on the back of the younger brother buried on his shoulder. Feeling a momentary shock, Mycroft raised his hand and followed the skeleton to gently give the same erotic response, " _ **I'm here.**_ " 

Mycroft would not let the younger brother go to hell after all, but if Sherlock insisted, he would after all go together; and with determination made, he would not be the one who walked behind and waited for the younger brother to open the way. 

It ’s not that Sherlock didn’t think that Mycroft would respond, the Holmes never do anything that was really completely impossible, and in the endless possibilities of performing in his mind palace, there did be few occasions that ended in mutual agreement. After all, Mycroft had never really rejected any appeal of Sherlock-as long as such an appeal would not hurt the younger brother's own life after his calculation; but Sherlock did not imagine that things would go so smoothly. 

Mycroft’s right hand was as unmatched as his brilliant brain. The hand that once belonged to a violinist and later took charge of the highest violent machine of Great Britain, steadily, powerfully and accurately followed the texture and trend of the musculoskeletal of the detective’s back. Sherlock's clothes was still intact, but at the temperature that easily penetrated the fabric barrier, the bioelectrical stimulation from the nerve endings quickly conquered the happy mechanism of his brain which once destroyed by various solutions, directing certain organ quickly congested and raised. 

Sherlock struggled with his rapidly weakened muscles under this caress, pulled out the key from his pocket, lifted his body to open the metal object hanging on the bedpost that restricted Mycroft all afternoon, and then kissed the left hand which was pale and cold because of poor blood circulation. Starting from the fingertips, Sherlock warmed it with his lips. The thin cocoon left by the violin string long disappeared in the years. The field career that had been sealed since the trip to Serbia also restored the palm to the original softness. The 37 degree Celsius liquid gradually fetched its consciousness.

Sherlock heard a gasp that was as inaudible as the palm that fell on his head. This is surrender, confirmation, and invitation. He turned his head gently on the palm of his hand and looked into his brother's eyes. In that lead-grey was merciful calmness and a sinking desire. So he slowly swallowed the finger that he had kissed in a consecrated way into his mouth, and the tip of his tongue stirred the flesh and blood from the shared origins—he would then bite the other parts of his brother in the same way.

Perhaps ordinary people cannot imagine that the virgin and the ice man would indulge in the same low-level sensory happiness as they craved; but apart from the brains that were superb for this world, they were still bound by the flesh to this planet. Their bodies could function normally on receiving stimulation. 

Sherlock must not be considered experienced, but it was not too difficult to transform theory into practice. He knelt and sat on the side of Mycroft thigh, his fingers flexibly unbuttoned the shirt and belt - the fall of the jacket was only instantaneous, his eyes locked on his brother's eyes, a silent urging, and even a hunter provocation. The fragrance of Passage d'enfer was pulled out a extremely sexual appeal in the dimness of the evening, in a way was not in line with any one of the fragrance review articles, and the silence of the air and the rustling of the clothing surged among the unparalleled brothers in this world a dangerous tension. Mycroft slowly unbuttoned coats, vests, and shirts layer by layer, untied one-handed ties loosened by Sherlock's bow before, and the whole process was neat and elongated deliberately. Not hesitation, but the display of force in response to the temptation before the battle.

They finally kissed. Confirm each other's existence between the breathing entanglements. No one closed their eyes.

Mycroft’s lazy nature does not hinder his control. The impatient and unreserved musketeer eagerly searched through the elder brother's lips and teeth, but gave the opponent's hands chance to spread out to conquer more. The lubricating oil that was already warmed at the fingertips made the entry almost unfelt. Swallowed a sharp scream hardly, Sherlock cursed his brother for his cunning in his heart. In the kiss that exhausted his attention, Mycroft however, could still manage to open the lube with one hand without letting him notice. He buried himself on his brother's shoulder and finally closed his eyes, feeling the other's finger playing in his body. But he was not completely passive, the virgin did not mean lack of imagination. Lifting the crotch gently, the little Sherlocklaunched a friendly wrestling movement, and succeeded in letting the calm and self-sustained British government also swallowed the scream that almost blurted out. 

_**What is sex? What is marginal sex?** _

The former was questioned at eight years old and the latter was at ten years old. Sherlock's questions had always been answered by his brother through most precise academic languages. Mycroft could always find the best one in the spectrum of answers that both enough to satisfy Sherlock's curiosity and prevent him from trying himself. The answers would never be added nor abridged. 

Sherlock remembered in a trance at the end of the pain when Mycroft finally entered his body that it was after the second question that there was no longer real physical contact between them, apart from those rescue operations related to 7% solutions in back alley or doss house. No hugs, no greetings, even in the course of their most childlike deduction game, Mycroft tried to avoid the round of intimacy that he repeatedly broke through. Perhaps Mycroft also partially possessed the ability of Eurus to foresee the future, perhaps he had seen this possibility in ten million timelines. "Arch enemy" might be the price that Mycroft volunteered to pay ...

 _ **"You think too loudly, brother dear."**_ Mycroft’s thrusting shattered Sherlock's free thinking. Just like the precision that his body held everywhere, Sherlock's suppressed scream was finally burst at the very thrust to his point inside. Physiological tears obscured his vision and softened the outline of Mycroft, making the other party look mildly out of his character, while the hot, wedged hands clasping his hips clearly showed absolute accordance of the British government’s possessiveness. Mycroft lowered his head and kissed the liquid in the corner of his younger brother's eyes. His tone was warmed by sex. _"I told you that your loss would break my heart. The trouble that Erurus caused was my fault. I wouldn’t let YOU pay the price._ " 

Mycroft retreated before Sherlock’s climax was coming, and the timing was just as precise. He then lay flat in a prone position next to Sherlock, and stretched into a completely _submissive_ posture, Sherlock felt a mixture of fear and peace of emotion stir in his heart. Then again, he heard his brother say in a completely _dominant_ tone, _**"Fuck me, now."**_

Sherlock obeyed. It was not easy. He saw Mycroft’s slender arm muscles bulging with graceful but tense lines, his fingers clenched to the bed sheets and his bony joints went white, his back ridge arched with a fragile gesture, his hip peak rose sharply, but his elder brother promised the pain. The pain rewarded that he could confirm the existence of his elder brother in a way that he had never had before.

Nevertheless, he didn't want to cause pain only to Mycroft. Sherlock leaned down and kissed his brother ’s back neck, gently moving his fingertips from his thigh, sweeping across the waist, umbilical groove, chest, and then rubbing the two points that the breath was once taken by his kiss’s gentle sweep. He patiently waited for his elder brother to restore his ability to perceive pleasure after the end of pain. When his elder brother gave his tacit permission by relaxing his back muscles, he slowly moved forward until Mycroft and himself culminated completely. More than once.

None of them said anything.

Sherlock's penis was still buried in his elder brother's body. He lay to his elder brother’s back, breathing hot, and his thoughts return to the original chaos under the highest level of sensory overload. The rhythm of the intestine that wrapped his penis leaped lively, gradually uniting with his own heartbeat, as he heard when he flung himself on the couch of Mycroft’s back in his childhood. 

_**"In case you don’t know, your loss would as well break MY heart."** _

The response to him was a long silence, and a tired and gentle voice, _**"I know."** _

-The End- 

* "Bible" [1 John 2:25], here can refer to in the heart of Sherlock, Mycroft should be the God with eternal life, and can also be understood as Sherlock is reminding Mycroft of his promise, "I will always be there for you ". And Mycroft’s response, "I am here", is to confirm Sherlock’s reminder, understand why Sherlock suddenly wants him ("I want you"), and make another confirmation of this commitment.

The quotation above is also translated from Chinese, sorry if it is not in line with its English version.


End file.
